


This is not love, is it?

by AngelPissGabe



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol, Animal Death, Child Abuse, Corpses, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drowning, Elizabeth afton - Freeform, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Implied/ Religious trauma, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Just learned of the dead dove tag and oh boy is it needed here, Michael Afton - Freeform, Pedophilia, Physical Abuse, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Sexual Abuse, Underage Sex, Verbal Abuse, William Afton - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:01:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29496951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelPissGabe/pseuds/AngelPissGabe
Summary: Maybe it was easier since they didn't really know what love wasIt's so much easier to destroy someone who's been hurt so bad they can't feel it anymore
Relationships: William Afton | Dave Miller/Reader
Comments: 19
Kudos: 71





	1. Important! Please read before staring this

I would like to preface this with:  
I do NOT condone murder.  
I do NOT condone paedophilia.  
I do NOT condone rape.  
I do NOT condone ANY of the actions in this book.  
This is essentially a fetish/coping piece.  
If any of the warnings disturb or upset you, please DO NOT read this. This fiction is meant to thrill not harm. If any of the content upsets you, please STOP reading it.  
I will try and put chapter specific triggers in each chapter so you may skip them, but if you are easily triggered I suggest you just click away from this now.

Mildly less important  
Story related;  
This is set in the 80’s  
It will likely have many non-canon aspects for story purposes.  
I’m pretty bad at writing, especially smut, but there will be a lot of it, so, let’s see how that works out.  
The ‘Reader’ isn’t given an age, but I’m imagining around 12, feel free to change that.  
I literally can’t write consistent characters; this is your warning.  
Feel free to give suggestions, but I have a general idea of where the story is going so, I may not take them on board if they don’t fit.  
This is inspired by william_is_smelly420 (If you like this kind of stuff I suggest finding them because they do really good ones, you should be able to find them in my bookmarks, idk how to tag people)


	2. Routine and the usual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day of the usual,  
> You wanted to cry
> 
> Potential triggers: Adults being creepy, but fairly light

The banged up old Rover 200 bopped unevenly down the street, the creaking and scraping noise drowned out by the loud engine. You sat, body twisting uncomfortably to stare out the window, resting your head on your small arms. The car somehow smelt of rust, it hung in the air and the faulty windows that decided to just not work a lot didn’t help this. Luckily, car journeys didn’t last long. They never did. Hurricane wasn’t a very big town, it was decent, but hardly the place to be, weird how no one seemed to ever leave.

Even if this town was big, had anywhere to really go, you wouldn’t be allowed. The fact you left the house at all other than for school or accompanying your mother was somewhat of a miracle. Your mother. The woman stationed next to you, gripping the dirty, splitting wheel and driving at a painfully slow pace. She barely let you step foot beyond you garden without your hand in hers, as said, not much in this dear town, but every year or so there were events like a fairground rolling in or school taking a trip to the museum a few hours out. You’d never got to go out to them, they were either not for someone of your age, a sinful thing or because you’d been “naughty” which an exact example each time was never accompanied with this.

The car came to a jolting stop, wheels crunching on the gravel of the small parking lot. “We’re here.” Your mother said with the half enthusiasm she gave everything that was _you_ related, but you didn’t mind her tone, because this small escape from the grey faded wood rot that was a home to you both was all you had.

Wandering in, the usual smells hit you, cold grease and what could only be described as children, probably a mix of feet and vomit. The heavy rubber edged doors really kept the smell, and the heat, in. The place was at its usual, busy and loud, full of children and tired grownups.

This place was one of the few you were allowed at. It was mostly for children a bit younger than yourself and it doubled as a cheap place to eat since your mother didn’t work and relied on government compensation. It wasn’t that your mother couldn’t work, she just decided not to, although it’s likely no one would want her even if she tried to find one. It was a mix of laziness and her belief that the wife was a child minder, and the father was the money maker. You’d never met you father in all you years on this earth. He’d left soon after your mother pregnancy, but it wasn’t his fault, he didn’t even know you existed. You don’t know if your mother ever tried to reach out to him again, but it’s likely he wouldn’t believe a word she said, but could you blame him?

You noticed your mothers’ hand on your back as she more than gently pushed you toward the tables, saying to go sit while she ordered some food and found Henry. He was supposedly her friend, but really it was more she came and bothered him every time they came here, and you played with his kid sometimes.

Soon food arrived and you sat by yourself, with the half decent pizza and a plastic cup filled with chemically tasting tap water. On the other side of the room, near the wall was your mother, talking to Henry’s other friend and his three kids. _Oh how she indulged those three children_. Complimenting them, smothering them, as much as a half friend to a parent could, and always talking about how well they’d been raised, which was much different from the way you were, you didn’t even have your own clothes, just her brother and sisters’ old clothes from their kids and own childhoods. The 40’s or something… maybe not that old.

Your mother always wanted a big family, but it had to be _her_ family. The few hand-me-downs that she had received, or stolen, was all she really had of the brothers and sister still living. But she couldn’t have kids really, you were nothing short of a miracle. 100 to 1 or something like that you were, but that wasn’t enough. Now you felt more like a reminder a what she could never really have. A reminder that had to eat, sleep, be clothed and looked after.

These three children were a glimpse at something she wanted, right in front of her.

God damn, will she be expecting grandchildren.

The Afton children were your only real “friends”, although you weren’t close with them in reality. The youngest, Chris or something, was about 5 and you struggled to relate to or play with him. Elizabeth was sweet and although a few years younger than you are, still fun. The there was Michael, the oldest Afton child and a few years older than you. You liked him the most, but mostly because he was an older kid and at your young age that really meant something, but still, you mostly played with Liz.

Then there was William, their father. You didn’t know who their was mother was, you’d never seen her and didn’t know if she was still with him (But the way your mother sucked up to him gave you the feeling she wasn’t). He owned the Pizza place and performed sometimes as the bunny character, springs or something like that. He was good with children and really loved his kids, even if he seemed to be kinder to his two youngest, but Michael was at that stage in adolescence and was most likely a “Teenager thing” as everyone seemed to call it. He always kind of gave you the heebie jeebies, he seemed a little weird, but since you’d not really talked or what would be considered a proper greeting with him it wasn’t really a very strong feeling.

You’d finished your food and sat quietly, kicking you legs back and forth for a while, trying a few times to see if your cup was really empty, which it was every time. You’d attempted to count all the black tiles you could see but got lost around 50 and quickly got bored. Your mother was still talking to Mr. Afton it seemed.

You got up for water, because she wouldn’t be mad about you moving for that, or even notice, right? You hurried anyway. No employees were in sight and the only place you could think to go was the kitchen. Darting through people and avoiding other running children got almost hypnotic at a point, until you bumped you head on the kitchen doors. Rubbing the small slowly bruising spot, you knocked as hard as you could, which wasn’t very hard, on the thick door and waited for someone to emerge. This was about as exciting as when you were counting tiles, so the sore spot and potential trouble hardly seemed worth it now.

You were about to untriumphantly return just as a man walked up behind you. It was Mr. Afton. He leaned down quickly and spoke “What are you doing here, kiddo?” his words were warm, but seemed ungenuine, like an act he used with all strange children.

“I- uh, um,” Speaking to people you didn’t know had always been a problematic area, which contributed to the no friends issue, “Water.” You raised a hand to the kitchen door. “But no one came.”

“No one came? I’ll fix that.” He lingered with his words, looking you in the eyes, before plucking the cup out of your small hands and pushing his way in the doors, then to only emerge moments later with a full cup.

“Here.”

You drank it quickly, as your mouth was very dry. It was cool, almost freezing, which was nice in the humid air. This one tasted worse than the last and you visibly cringed at the crude flavour. “Haha, pretty bad I know, say, I feel like I know you. Do you know me?” Mr. Afton kneeled on one leg and looked you in the eyes as you downed the last drop. You nodded.

“Yes. You are Mr. Afton, Michael’s father and- uh, you own this place?” The last bit lacked confidence, because you thought he owned it, but he very well could just work here. He smiled a bit more, your stammering seemed to amuse him.

“That’s right, and you must be Mr. [L/N]’s kid, huh? And you’re a friend of Michael’s?” The first question felt like thinking out loud, but the second one seemed to hold real intrigue. That question made you feel kind of bad, you wished you could say yes, but that would be a half lie.

“Well, not really, sort of, I guess… Lizzy’s really more of a friend.” You looked to the side.

“Ah… I see.”

He reached out to your face, which startled you, but not enough to elicit a real reaction before he gently wiped a drop of water off you bottom lip. This made you rub you arm over your mouth out of a slight embarrassment. He gave a light smirk before getting back up and roughly ruffling your hair as he pasted you.

You made your way back to the cheap bench table as quickly as you had gone. Looking around from your spot, your mother was no longer in the corner, in fact, she didn’t seem to be in this room at all. The Afton children and Afton himself weren’t there either.

The thought she was looking for you churned your stomach _. I wonder what she’s going to do if she finds me._

You chose to look for her first, so at least she might be less mad if she thought you just got lost looking for her. All the running around was weighing on you though, legs feeling sore and heavy.

The crowds seem to get denser the longer you were in it, getting hard to move more than a few inches without having to make way for someone else. Jumping out of the crowd and into a less packed area, around the ball pit, which was usually full of children and on looking parents, but this particular day, it was empty. Completely empty, most likely for cleaning.

“Y/N?” a voice from behind lightly echoed.

Turning around to see Michael, standing there with a half-smile and an almost puzzled look. “Mikey!” You refrained from running over and hugging him, it hadn’t been long since you’d talked to him and it probably would have been awkward regardless, so your just pinched and scratched the skin of your right arm. Force of habit.

“Hey, it’s you!”

“Y-yeah, it’s me! Aheheh.” The nerves were so clear in your voice it was embarrassing, you pinched your arm harder.

“How you been?” He leaned back a bit, his smile growing slightly.

“You know, the usual… fine, I’ve been fine.” You tried to match his smile but looked marginally closer to a grimace than his. “You?”

He itched the back of his neck, “I’ve been…” he seemed to trail off a bit, distracted, “so good.”

Michael was about to say something else, but then was interrupted, “Mikey, so this is your friend.” It was Mr. Afton, he came through a room a bit further down the hall labelled:

Staff only

“Hmm? Oh, hi dad, yeah, I guess, they’re Liz’s friend too.”

Mr. Afton hummed in response, eyeing both of you. “You should have them to the house someday, you could do with more, better, friends.” This made your eyes light up and body tense, the prospect of going to a friend’s house was something very exciting, other than a few of your mom’s select friends and once the front room of Henry, you’d never been to someone’s house, let alone a _friend’s_ house. You would have jumped for joy if that wasn’t a weird thing to do.

” That sounds cool, right- gah, oh, um, you’re bleeding.” Michael pointed at your right arm. You’d pinched your arm too hard and broken the skin, leaving 2 small red crescent lines on your forearm. A bright warm liquid slowly made its way down your arm as you pulled away your stained fingers. You made a gasping noise out of surprise as you tried to stop it hitting your clothes which would definitely be marked by the time you were home. Panicking you tried to wipe it all of with you arm, the heat of two sets of eyes on you making your skin prickle.

Suddenly your wrist was taken to stop the frantic movements.

“Mikey, go find [Y/N]’s mother and say to come over here to get them, I’ll clean them up a bit in the back.” Michael nodded and scampered off into the eating area as Mr. Afton started taking you to the ‘Staff Only’ room at the end of the corridor. This felt unsafe and a part of you wanted to tug away from his tight grip, but you’d always been told to do what adults said. Plus, he was your mothers friend, he was a family friend in a way.

You’d never really noticed how tall he was. You were less than 5 foot, and he was definitely over 6, he towered over you as he lifted your arm a little higher than you could comfortably stretch.

The staff only room was dimly lit and smelt different from the rest of the building, but not better. He led you over to a small countertop, walking out of view as you stood silently by. You gazed around, not much in there, it was just one small dinky room with a couple tables and a few doors, although an interesting poster advertisement for the restaurant above the counter which you read over while you waited. You failed to see Afton re-enter.

He spun you around and firmly grabbed your small thighs, propping you up on the edge of the counter. He had a small rag and bottle. He leaned forward slightly, pressing his legs against the counter as he splashed a liquid over the rag. You watched unsure of what exactly he was doing, most likely going to clean your scratch off.

He took it in one hand a quickly pressed it against your arm followed quickly by “This is going to hurt.” A searing pain shot through your arm as you recoiled from the touch. Afton wrapped his spare arm around the top of your back pressing you closer into him to stop you from getting the clothe off.

The bottom of his face rested in your soft hair, you felt him begin to speak before you heard him. It was just louder than a whisper. “It’s alcohol, it will stop it getting infected.” The way he talked seemed deliberately move your head. You wanted to cry a bit, but tried to keep it in.

Then he raised his hand from your shoulder to the back of your hair, gripping it very slightly, while keeping you locked in place. He took a long breath in, smelling your hair.

He pulled away and you tried to not show you’d been holding your breath. He took away the rag, wiping your arm over a couple times with the dry side, and the pain went away, the fresh crescent shapes visible again.

Afton moved in with the rag again, but toward you face, you jerked away instinctively. “It only hurts if you have an open cut,” His tone almost mocking, you didn’t know that, so you let him come closer with the rag which he wiped you lips with. “You must have wiped some blood onto your face earlier.” He wiped the edges of your mouth as you stared off to the side at the small desk lamp that was currently their only light source, watching funny shapes appear in your vision the longer it burned into you eyes. Then lips moved onto yours and then moved away again.

Afton just kissed you and not the way any of your relatives had every done it, this didn’t feel right, it didn’t feel like a loving greeting. Something dark about it.

You tried to speak, but he shushed you, leaning further towards you.

But then he stopped dead in his tracks, eyes darting back to the door you came through. He straightened himself out and pulled you off and out the door. Opening it just as your mother had reached for the handle on the other side.

“Oh, Mr. [L/N], we were just about to come out to you.” His voice was cheerful and regular, as if nothing had just happened. “Here, I believe this belongs to you.” He pushed you forward into you mothers’ arm, who was standing by Michael. He gave a small smile and then refocused on his dad.

“Oh thank you soo much, Afton, my little one here would be helpless without people like you.” These words were obscene and grotesquely fabricated from a charm that was not there. “Well, what do you say… dear?” The pet name stung worse than the alcohol, she never used them and this, what’s meant to be a sign of affection, was being used as some kind of flattery to another person.

“T-thank you, Mr. Afton.” You didn’t really want to thank him, he put you in pain and then made you feel confused, but your mother way right, like she always is, he had helped you.

“Please, [Y/N], call me William.”

You gave Mikey a gentle wave as you started down the hall to the front door. He returned it until the doors shut and you couldn’t see inside anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a couple chapters in the works, I hope to have them up soon


	3. Slumber Party: Night one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something exciting happened to day,  
> It left a foul taste in your mouth
> 
> Potential triggers: Creepy adults, alcohol, choking, being restrained

Your mother gave out all the way home, something about bothering adults and ruining her relationships with anyone she was kind to, but you didn’t hear anything she said. Her words lost on you as you couldn’t get you mind off the deep pit in your stomach William had left. A part of you wanted to cry out and tell your mummy, but you couldn’t, was what he did even bad? He was our friend, he was an adult, he couldn’t do anything wrong to you. And what was the likely hood your mummy would even believe you. Maybe you deserved that in some way. _The universe works in mysterious ways, and it all happens for a reason_ as mummy would often say.

After the car ride that felt like hours, you returned to your small home which looked like an abandoned 60’s sitcom set. You did extra chores and then went to your room as your mother prepared a bland dinner. The room felt more like a big closet, a heavy antique desk, set of drawers and a wire frame bed with an ugly uncomfortable duvet were the main attraction of the room.

You didn’t have much to do in there, other kids had games or toys, all you had was books and pens. So, you went to write in your journal, the one place of privacy in the whole world for you. It was a simple black paperback notebook that your mother had bought for you once to write down the thoughts that you struggled to say and then if it was important you could read it aloud to her. You’d done that a couple times, but it soon just became a diary.

It was the one kind thing she’d done for that you could remember, and she seemed to never actual read it, whether that was because she respected your privacy or had just forgotten it existed. Once you’d written something really bad down in it to see if she read it secretly and confront you about it, but a week past and she never brought it up, so you scribbled it out.

You wrote an account of today, writing about what William did and how weird it made you feel.

Then soon it was time for food and the few hours of television you were allowed a day. Your mother sat on the couch and you sat on the floor with a small foot stool as a table. You watched some game show where the people always seemed to leave disappointed or crying, but in a happy way.

You’d always thought it would be fun to be on one of those shows, you often guessed the questions right even if you never got a full grip of the points system they used.

Your mother fell asleep on the couch when she’d finished the crummy microwave food she had “made”. Your mother didn’t do this often, but when she did you got a few hours more of TV. The game show ended and then a movie came on. You looked at the clock, it was 10pm.

You didn’t catch the name of the movie, but it looked like a movie about older teenage girls and high school or something. It was different, made you feel weird, there was lots of girls undressing. Then it got worse, you didn’t realize it until now, but it was Horror movie, deep, dark and gory, but you couldn’t pull yourself away from it. Women and men getting cut and stabbed, the grainy image of a man with a power drill through his neck.

The Movie wasn’t long and ended at quarter past 11. You made a run to your bedroom before burying yourself in the sheets, heart still racing, not even getting out your clothes. Sleep came soon, but it felt more like passing out.

The next morning, what sun could get through the translucent curtains engulfed the room in a soft, hazy light that gently lulled you into conscience. It was about 9 am, a little later than you usually had to get. You still felt ill from the movie, violent images in your head. You got up and went downstairs, your mother putting out breakfast on the small coffee table by the couch.

You both made eye contact and you felt like she could tell that you’d seen that movie, could she tell? Did she know and what would she do if she did?

You made your way the small coffee table taking your usual seat on the floor as she sat on the couch. You were about to take a first bite of it when she said “[Y/N],” her voice held no tone, you gulped, waiting for her to give out. “How would you like to go over to those kids house?” She asked, moving her food around on her plate before taking a bite.

You didn’t expect this, your head was so full of that movie it had blinded you from anything really, but that sounded great. “They called earlier and offered to have you around.” She took another bite and looked down at you awaiting an answer.

You didn’t even think about it before saying yes, bouncing a bit in your seat. Your mother stood up and went into the other room stating “I’ll go call them now then” leaving a small amount of breakfast behind.

It was really happening, going over to a friend’s house. This meant they really were your friend’s, they were letting you into their house. They _asked_ you to come into their house. This could be one of the happiest moments in your life so far. This could be one of the happiest moments of your life.

Your mother came back with a self-satisfied grin. “Tomorrow at 12pm, excited?”

“Y-yeah, I am!” You beamed continuing to bounce. Your mother leaned down and kissed on you on the head “Your Welcome.” And then left the room. That comment confused you, what did she do? You hadn’t thanked her for anything, should you of? You just focused on getting through the day. You did everything your mother said without hesitation, cooking, cleaning, and making dinner, or microwaving dinner really. You ate quickly and excused yourself from TV running up to sleep at 8:45, which lead to be an issue since you weren’t tired yet and spent 2 hours staring at the ceiling, but it did allow you rememorize the pattern of flowers and bunnies on the peeling wallpaper that your mother had gotten for you 5 years ago.

You’re awoke to someone “gently” shaking you, it was of course your mother, she did this most mornings to wake you up because she didn’t like straining her voice in the morning to shout at you.

You sat up and stretched, feeling joints click ever so slightly as you stood. Today you went to a friends, you felt a sudden burst of energy as you jumped down 2 steps at a time to go for breakfast, 4 hours to go.

After breakfast you cleaned yourself, taking a shower even though you didn’t need one. You put on your favourite clothes you had and tried doing something with your hair. Which failed. Finally, you packed a bag with what you deemed the essentials, things like books and pencils and most things in your room since there wasn’t much in there. The bag wasn’t very big, it was for school, small and made of a weak, thin leather with brass buckles you struggled to unclasp. It, as almost everything was, your mothers when she was younger, which would explain some of the weakness of the material and stiffness of the buckles.

It was an hour and a half to go. You came downstairs again and sat patiently on the couch with your bag on your back as your mother occasionally gave you something to do for around a half an hour. The she gave a 20-minute lecture of etiquette at others houses and not to be a nuisance and on and on.

 _Blah, blah, blah_ You thought, even if you did take it all to heart.

When she finished, she told you to wait in the car and you bolted, jumping in the overly warm rust bucket, squeaking and buckling with your movements, bits of whatever cheap fabric coated the door chipping away where you drug your nails in. This was soon followed suit by your mother, she seemed as excited as you, but it didn’t seem like she was excited _for you_ , but for herself somehow. You didn’t think too hard about it.

The car started up with it’s usual jittering and screeching as you pulled out of the driveway and into the street. You stared out the window following each house with you eyes, you didn’t actual know where they lived beyond it was probably in or around Hurricane. Every house could be there’s and nothing could pull your attention from that. You didn’t even know what you were going to do when you got there but sitting in silence would be enough.

Eventually your eyes stopped truly looking and just let the outside become a blur of once brightly coloured houses, until the car slowed and then stopped outside one house. It was a little further away from the other houses nearby, it wasn’t in an estate like most, but you could see them clearly in the distance. You mother jumped out while you clicked open the door carefully stepping out, she was almost at the door by the time you’d found your mind, you rushed after her as she knocked in an almost rhythmic pattern that was quite off putting.

You both waited patiently. Then there was muffled shouting and the sound of footsteps as someone came to the door. It swung open and there stood Michael, rubbing his eyes a bit. They probably had a later wake up.

“Heyy [Y/N], come in!” He gestured you in, but no your mother, which she didn’t seem to like.

“Can I speak to your father before I go?” She asked a hint of impatience in her voice. Michael barely said the word sure before she stepped in, brushing past both of you. You tried to give Michael and apologetic look, but he was just staring at you mother who was looking around, scanning every detail of their house. “My, what a big house you all have, you father must make a lot of money.” She said the last part a bit quieter.

“Uh, yeah, I guess, I don’t think it’s that big, but…” Michael turned to you,” How big is your house?” You didn’t want to say small, but anything else would be a lie.

William walked in with Elizabeth trailing behind him, “Mrs. [L/N], you wanted to speak with me?”

“Aha, William,” He seemed to silently cringe at her use of his first name, “I just wanted to know about what time you’d like me pick my [Y/N]? I don’t want to burden you with them too long.” She gave a large ingenuine smile.

“Well,” William started as he walked over to you and place his hands firmly on your shoulders, “They can stay as long as they want, we’ll never get tired of them.” He squeezed your shoulders on the last part.

Your mother hummed like she didn’t understand the sentiment, “Just… call me whenever you want me to pick them up, otherwise I’ll just pick them up before they need to go to bed.” Then she gave her thanks and left.

You turned excitedly to Michael but were stopped my Williams to hands still tight on your shoulders. Looking up at him, he smiled, you hadn’t noticed a lot about him before, most striking was his blue almost grey eyes that felt cold, just staring into you. They were like ice, making wherever they looked turn cold. Then suddenly he let go and you stumbled forward a bit.

Michael and Elizabeth sat on their couch, they motioned for you to join them, they’d set out a bored game that you’d never played before. It was fun.

The time slipped away quickly, you played games, watched TV, showed them drawings you did and got to play a video game which you never had before, you failed horribly and died a lot, but you didn’t mind, you were doing things you had never done before here. William was mostly absent for your time, only walking through the room once or twice. It soon got late, and you were told you’d be eating soon. They named the dish, and you didn’t know what it was, but it sounded good.

“I’m going to go wash my hands!” You hopped up from you seat excitedly, not for washing hands but the memory of the day itself. Michael shouted general directions are you skipped through the halls making a couple wrong turn until you found the bathroom. It was surprisingly small for the size of the house. It just had a sink, toilet and small standing shower in the corner. There were probably other bathrooms in this, what you could only consider, damn mansion.

You took your time washing your hands, savouring the smell of the nice soap they had. You heard movement downstairs. Talking and clattering plates, the occasional footsteps. The house was mostly quite from up their though, the door heavy and blocked most noise, unlike the paper walls of your own.

You reached for the brass handle, but it turned before you got a grip on it. Mr. Afton walked in.

“Mr. A-afton-“

“I though I told you to call me William?” He reached down and put his hand on your minute waist and tried to pull you in. You jumped back from his touch and he grabbed you, spinning you to face away from him. He pulled you into a tight hug, a tight lock, wrapping his long thin arms around your torso and lower half of your face. He sat with his back against the bathroom door.

You were scared he could feel you fast heartbeat. He brought his hand up to your hair, running it through less than tenderly causing you to shiver and let out a small, surprised gasp muffled by his other arm.

He breathed on your neck as he spoke, “I’d always wanted to be closer to you, every time I saw you all by yourself.” He was moving in a rhythm slightly, you couldn’t see what he was doing though, just feel his chest press a little harder against your back ever second or two. His hand trailed to your stomach and you felt like your skin was on fire. “I only ever talked to your mother in hopes of getting this chance.”

Then there was a shout. It was Michael.

“Dad!”

William ignored it, his hand threatening to move lower. The shout came again.

“Dad! Burning!”

This time William acknowledged it, letting you go and standing up. Just before he left, he gave you a look that told you not to speak a word of this. You waited until he was halfway downstairs to make your way.

Once you got down food had been served. They sat at a dining table. Michael and William at opposite ends and Elizabeth and Chris on the left, across from where they sat you. The food smelled good, tasted better. This was better than any cheap microwave meal you’d had, but you and Michael did seem to get proportionally less than everyone else.

You all ate in mostly silence, every now someone would ask a question, the usual, school and hobbies. The silence was nice, comfortable, everything bad seemed to melt away in those 25 or so minutes you spent at that table.

But then there was a knock at the door. The same out of time rap at the door. Your mother had come back. You checked the clock. 8:23pm. It was not time for you to go home and no one had called for you to leave early. Unless…

The knock poorly repeated itself. William stood and headed for the door, opening it to a frazzled and ever so slightly dolled up woman. She looked to go one about something unimportant for a moment while you attempted to eat the last of what was on your plate. She looked you dead in the eyes, her smile was warm, but her eyes told you to hurry up and get over there. You grabbed what you had out in their living room and put it in your bag.

You walked up to her and, even if this felt like a bad idea, asked “Why am I going home so early?”

She looked at you with mild shocked at the question, but then continued, “We, uh, we have to go and stay at your Aunts house for a couple nights, I need the break from this town in all honesty.”

You lowered your head, you hated going there, all she did was talk to her friend and make you sit in the room, bored, with them. The woman your mother called your “Aunt” was not really your relative, just something she thought would be cute. That woman was more of a mess than your own mother, always giving her ideas.

You sighed and ready yourself to go, looking sadly back at Michael and Elizabeth.

“Wait, Mrs. [L/N], do they have to be with you up at her Aunts house?” Michael had said this, everyone turned to him at the strange question.

“Well, no, but they have no where else to stay.” Your mother looked at Michael like he had two heads.

“They could stay here!” Michael looked at you hopefully, he had clearly been able to read the pain on your face from before. You lite up, staring at your mother wide eyed and pleading. You’d never been at a sleepover, you’d kind of assumed those things only actually happened in movies, a cliché that wasn’t grounded in reality.

“Hmm, I don’t know, it would be two nights, I don’t want to burden you with their presence. Will, your thoughts?”

Suck up.

“Heh, that sounds fine, they’re no issue, we love having them here.”

“Really, they’d be no issue?”

Will nodded in response. Once your mother had been given consent to give you away, even if for a short while, she did, turning her back and shouting a few words of wisdom before quickly running back to the car then disappearing into the darkness of the twilight.

You turned doing your trademark excited bounce.

The rest of the night was spent watching some movie, until if was time to sleep. Elizabeth and Michael mulled over who’s room you should be in, deciding on Michaels room because he had more floor space.

You were all ushered up the stairs into your respective rooms. You hadn’t brought pyjamas and just decided to sleep in the underwear and small vest you had under your clothes that day. You and Michael talked for a while, nothing very important. The sleeping bag you were given was plush and warm and you easily slipped into sleep.

*

The quiet sound of talking downstairs slowly woke you. It was still dark in the room. Sitting up groggily, you check the alarm clock by Michaels bed.

1:56

It was the middle of the night. Who was up at this hour?

Against you better judgment, you got up and made your way to the stairs. You still couldn’t see what was going on in the living room other than a flickering type of light swallowing the room. You went down a few steps and looked again. The light was the TV, that’s also the sound you had heard. William was on the couch, his arms spread on the back, a bottle in hand.

You started to make you way back, not wanting him to see you, but one of the steps creaked. You looked back to William, he was staring at you, the usual smile on his face.

“[Y/N], how lovely to see you. Come down here, don’t be shy.” His words were the slightest bit slurred.

You creeped back down and looked back at the ajar door to Michaels room, hoping he would wake up and come down. Your bare feet gripped the soft shag carpet as you stood next to the large leather couch. You held your hands in front of you, messing with your fingernails. William stared at you, but he didn’t look you in the eyes. He then softly patted the couch, asking, no, _telling_ you to sit down next to him. You took a moment and sat. The room was hot, much hotter than the rest of the house, you began to sweat as you stuck a little to the couch.

William was warm too, he had his shirt off, wearing a slightly stained white vest, a small amount of what he was drinking splattered on the neck. You tried to stare at the TV, it was some show, you couldn’t focus on it. He slid closer to you, you tensed, too afraid to try move away.

William swirled whatever he had in that brown glass bottle, watching the liquid crawl up the sides and fall back down again hypnotically. He leaned his head closer to you while still looking at the bottle.

“Ever had alcohol, [Y/N]?” His hot breath wafted over to you, it was putrid, it smelt of whatever foul thing he was drinking. Your eyes watered a bit. You looked at your arm, where the crescent shapes still showed. He saw this.

“No, not that kind, the kind I imagine your mother drinks ever evening,” He laughed a little at that comment while taking another swig, “I bet she does it because of you, you can tell by how she talks about you, huh, that she didn’t want you.”

It stung, his words, but they felt right. You didn’t know why he was saying this though.

“Would you like to try some alcohol, [Y/N]?”

He looked at you half lidded. He waited for an answer. You gripped the edge of the couch.

“I think I’m not supposed to.”

He gave a fake confused pouting face, “Well, sometimes things you’re not supposed to do, things that are wrong, are ok.

“So, would you like to?”

“I- uh, um.” Was all you could croak out at that point.

“Of course, you do.” He answered for you. He took a long drink from the now almost empty bottle and grabbed you little face. He squeezed it until you mouth opened and the pressed his lips on yours, spitting the alcohol into your mouth. A lot of it spilled out on you and the couch, but he covered your mouth and held your nose, so you had to swallow it all. The taste was vile, you’d never tasted something so bad. You coughed and spluttered, a couple tears of pain rolled down your face, while spit ran down your chin and a dropped a bit onto your lap.

“Good, no?” William wiped a bit of alcohol and dribble off your chin. He looked at your bare thighs, now dripping with different fluids. “Oh no, you’re all messy.” He rubbed his hand over your thigh, spreading it all over his hand and your leg, trailing from your knee to the seam of your underwear. You felt a bit woozy, a little far away. “Hm, maybe I should clean it up?” He didn’t look at you, but you nodded just wanting him to leave, even if for just a moment, but he didn’t go to get a cloth. He leaned in and licked the top of your thigh.

You froze, not expecting that, you didn’t turn to him, but you could feel his eyes on you.

“That felt good, didn’t it?”

You said nothing.

He got a bit closer. “Hm?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

“HM?” This time was more aggressive, an anger you hadn’t heard before in his voice, in his movements.

You desperately tried to speak, just to look at him, but you couldn’t. He moved back a bit on the couch, just out of your peripheral view.

Suddenly he was on top on you, he had lunged with no warning, gripping your wrists at the side of your head. You tried to kick him, but he managed to work his legs between yours and keep them pinned down. You couldn’t see his face the way the light hit, but you felt cold spit hit your face.

“YOU ANSWER ME WHEN I SPEAK TO YOU!”

You tried to scream, but your own saliva choked you.

Suddenly he gripped his big hands around your small, thin neck and squeezed. You gave one last cry before your windpipe closed. You grabbed his forearms and tried to pull them away, you desperately tried to sit up or grab something, but he held you in place. Your mouth gaped as you struggled for air, a sore gargling escaping you lips, emptying your lungs more and more. Your vision blurred and the lights faded as you felt him take his hands off your neck. You went out with a few quiet whimpers.

The last thing you heard was, “Goodnight, [Y/N], goodnight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: The movie I was referencing was Slumber Party Massacre (1982) , it wasn't important to the plot to know what it was, I chose it because it was an 80's horror with gory murders, but then it had so similarities with theme to the story and I just thought that was funny.  
> The next chapters might take a while to come out because I wrote them but they sucked dick so I'm rewriting them, hope you're enjoying (as much as possible with this shit) so far


	4. Slumber Party: Night Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last night you'll have to spend,  
> You wouldn't want to dig up the past
> 
> Potential triggers: Creepy adults, mild sexual interaction, Dead animals, reference to injury

_Thud_

You sat up gasping for air.

_Thud Thud_

You saw your surroundings, you were in Michaels room, still in the sleeping bag. There was light in the room and the small alarm clock read 10:08.

You took a deep breath and questioned your memories from last night. They were barely present and didn’t feel real. They felt like a dream, or a nightmare. Maybe it was just a dream…

_Thud_

You were jerked out of your thoughts by the continued banging on the door as you looked to it. Michael was shouting.

“[Y/N], breakfast, come on!”

Breakfast sounded good. You stood up and wrapped the small blanket you’d been given around your shoulders. You took in the corridor’s ambience as you slowly made your way down to the kitchen. The living room was cleaning, neat, tidy, just as it had been when your mother showed up. No littered bottles or stains. You shrugged it off as you came into the kitchen and sat down at the table, blanket still tightly wrapped around you. A plate of Scottish pancakes was set in front on you, dripping in syrup.

It looked good.

Everyone sat down as William continued to make pancakes at the stove. The room was comfortably silent as you all ate.

Then Michael looked at you.

“Whoa, [Y/N], what the hell happened to your clothes?” He looked at your stained vest, covered in splatters of a dried yellow liquid. You smelt it, it was awful, but familiar.

“I’m… not sure…”

“Did you spill something on it? Or was it like that and I didn’t notice?” Michael furrowed his brow at your vest, the mystery frustrating him.

“I think I spilled something on myself last night, I got up for a drink last night and, I- I must of went back to bed without noticing. Or something.”

Michael shrugged, satisfied with your story. “You should probably take a shower then.”

Shower sounded nice, your legs were sticky which you hadn’t noticed before. You finished your food, not asking for seconds. Michael told you to use the shower in the same place you’d washed your hands. You scampered up the stairs, watching out of the corner of your eyes to make sure everyone stayed in place.

The bathroom was cool, the tiles were hard and almost hurt your feet compared to the soft carpeting of the rest of the house. You took off the blanket and began stepping out of your clothes, leaving them in a pile by the door. As you were stepping in the shower you caught a glimpse of your reflection.

Large splotchy purple marks around you neck. Deep bruises clinging like a necklace. You brought a shaky hand up and poke it. You hissed. The pain shot through your neck and shoulder. You wondered how you hadn’t felt them before. You blinked back tears at the sight of your violation, the memory of the alcohol flooding your mouth. You needed to wash it all away.

The water was warm, running over inch of your body. You tried to relax, letting your body loosen, closing your eyes and resting your head against the wall, feeling the hum of the shower. You stayed there what felt like hours, until you felt something else, rhythmic vibrations through the ground, then a blast of cold air as the shower door suddenly opened. You backed up into the wall and grounded yourself, trying to cover up.

“No need to be shy!”

William. He stepped in and slid the door closed after him. He was completely naked, just like you. You noticed he was covered in a pattern of circles and lines, slightly raised deep red scars covered him from head to toe. They were so clear on his sickly pale skin.

He was close to you, very close.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“I’m having a shower, what’s it look like?” He stared at you as if you were stupid. He took bottle of soap and put some in his hands, then he started to wash himself slowly. He wasn’t looking at you, just off the side at the steamed-up shower door.

Then your bruises caught his attention. He put his hand out to you and gently ran the back of his hand over your neck. You felt a chill go up your spine and you grabbed you legs, digging your nails in. “You’ll have to cover those up, wouldn’t want anyone to worry.” He spoke softly.

He continued to clean himself, while you just stared fearfully up at him.

“Well? Aren’t you going to clean yourself? Or will I have to do it for you?” He slightly bit the inside of his lip. You grabbed the soap bottle and pour some into your hands, quickly scrubbing all your body, leaving nothing untouched, no excuse for him to get closer to you. Then you washed it all off with the same care. You pressed your hand against the door hopefully, waiting for some sign you could get out.

“What about your hair?”

Before you could say anything, he sighed and grabbed the shampoo bottle. “Fine, I’ll just do it.”

He roughly grabbed you by the hair and pulled you forward, your body pressing against his. William pushed you down, forcing you to bed your knees slightly, your face pushed up against the top of his crotch. He was hard. You didn’t open your eyes as he began to rake soap through your hair, making you bob slightly against him. It was almost painful, he bony fingers in your tangled wet hair, the soap doing almost nothing to aid his movements. But the pain distracted you from his skin against your face.

He unexpectedly yanked the back of your hair, throwing your head back into the water. You coughed as you accidently breathed in.

“All clean.” He said in a sing song voice, sliding open the door and letting you get out. The cold air clung to your wet skin as you desperately tried to pull on your pants and vest fearing he’d follow you. This was a great struggle, the clothes almost refusing to be put on, the crustiness of the vests collar scratching your skin. Your heart was racing as you made it into Michael’s room then slamming the door.

You held yourself against the wall and let yourself fall into quiet weeping, where you stayed.

*

Soon you realized you were completely dry, although your underwear was heavy and damp, utterly unwearable. Being in them felt disgusting, even beyond the wetness. You sniffed and wiped you face clean as you stood to find your clothes. They were still neatly tucked in your school bag.

You put them on, cringing at how stale they felt. You thought it was best to return to the living room, to be in the open with others. Along with how it might be suspicious if you didn’t come back from upstairs soon.

Downstairs Elizabeth and Michael were just watching TV on the couch absentmindedly, unaware of the situation that just transpired. When Michael saw you, he gestured for you to come and sit. You softened a bit. You sat and sank into the couch, letting your thoughts float away as the other two occasionally said something. Nothing really mattered, but you felt safe.

Until Michael said something that grabbed your attention. “By the way, we have to go to the Diner today, Dad’s got to work and were not allowed to stay here by ourselves.”

You got goosebumps at the idea of going back there, where this all seemed to start. “But I, I thought he wouldn’t go into today, it’s just so late already and I…” you trailed off.

“Yeah, no Dad didn’t want to disturb you by making you get dressed and out early. Probably wouldn’t have had time for your shower if he did.”

*

The drive to the diner felt long. William drove much faster than your mother, but it seemed to go on forever. You sat in the back with Elizabeth and Chris, by the window on the drivers’ side, you’d picked that spot specifically so you could avoid Williams gaze. You were always a little scared he’d reach back and grab you, but the fact he was driving always quietened this thought. Their car was much nicer than yours, the seats were unstained, and nothing chipped away, the engine was almost silent in comparison.

When the car pulled up, you got out as fast as possible, running around to Michaels side so you could walk in with him. Elizabeth helped Chris out and trailed behind her father. You’d always wondered what they did all day at their fathers work since you could barely hold an interest for the hour every week or so, let alone spend almost every day there.

And by their own admission they didn’t do much, mostly playing games or watching the TV in the Staff Only room, only ever really stepping foot in the dining area to grab a drink or something to eat before jumping back into the shadows of the establishment. So, that’s really all you did. Your nerves were on high end, fearing he’d corner you or call you away. You made sure to always stay close to one of them, especially Michael, but he wasn’t always there, often being called to his father’s office for long periods of time. You never saw why or what he was being taken away for, but once or twice he had smears of black on his face and assumed it was to help fix one of the many mechanical things in this place.

The day pasted slowly, but you were relieved when at 6pm the few people left were asked to leave and they place soon closed. The drive home felt the same as the first, but the dying light amped up the unease and tension.

The last of the evening was spent as the one before was, eating, games, TV. The 10pm mark rolled in and everyone started to filter back to their rooms. Just as you grabbed the banister a hand was on your shoulder.

William was stopping you going up the stairs. You gave a questioning look. He turned you to the kitchen taking your hand and leading you in.

“You have chores to do.”

Michael, who was just ahead of you, came back down the stairs.

“What? Dad, she’ our guest, she shouldn’t have to do chor- “

“Do want to do them instead?”

“Sorry [Y/N], you’re on your own.” Michael called as he ran up to his room.

You felt your heart sink as you heard the door click shut upstairs. William started to walk you out of the room, hand still firmly on your shoulder, only for a moment was he not by your side as he grabbed a hefty police flashlight out of a draw by the sink.

He clicked it on as he opened the door to the garden, his silence threatening, his face was resting but there was still the smallest hint of a smile on it. The garden was large, you couldn’t see much in the dark, creating the illusion that it went on forever. The ground was unusually mushy and damp despite the lack of rain recently, although small droplets fell on your skin at this time. The smell of dirt and cut grass was very strong, along with something else you couldn’t place.

William led you into the darkness, the house almost lost behind you, the small red light of a clock inside the only indication it was still there. You both stayed walking until you were met with a small shed. Unlike everything else the Afton’s owned, this seemed old, rotting, and used.

He unlocked it as you looked around paranoid.

He took a few moments of shuffling around, the sound of metal clanking raising fear in you. He re-emerged soon, a shovel in hand.

_Oh god, he’s going to kill me…_

You backed up as he stepped closer, preparing to run. Your dread and fear must have been painted on your face because he then said, “I’m not going go to kill you now, dummy,” He tiled his head to the side in mockery. You swallowed hard, not fully believing his words.

He started to walk off to the side, telling you to hurry and follow him. The ground felt looser here, there was no grass at this part of the garden.

When you stopped walking, he shoved the shovel towards you, making you flinch which won an entertained smirk. He motioned for you to take it before stepping back and staring at a slightly raise patch of dirt.

“You- You want me to dig?” You stuttered out. He gave a nod. “But I- “

He cut you off before you could say any of your concerns, “Hm, I see your issue,” e gave a hitched laugh, finding his own antics amusing in some way, “You can’t get your lovely clothes all dirty, wouldn’t want people to be concerned like they were this morning, huh?”

You looked down at what you were wearing, did have a point, if you ruined these clothes, even at someone else’s volition, your mother might kill you herself. You looked up at him blankly, waiting for him to take you in and give you and easier “chore”, but then he said,

“Strip so,”

You dug your nails into the shovels soft wood, heat and sickness welling in your chest. You looked at him and he wasn’t joking, of course he wasn’t… So awkwardly placed down the shovel and began to unbutton your clothes slowly. William gave a childish eye roll and your pace and just bent down, tugging at the clothes, the buttons popping open as he pulled them off roughly. He spoke as he did this, “You know that Michael of mine really takes a fancy to you, hm? He might like you more than he does his dear ol’ dad… you two make a good team, huh?” He seemed to trail into rambling, but although it had an overall tone of taunting there was a small hint of something genuine that unsettled you. Soon your clothes were off, once again in your soiled undergarments, the vest warm and still a bit damp, having been under your clothes all day, but it got crisp and frosty in the night air.

“Well, get going.” He had picked shovel and with this last word stabbed it into the raised ground. You shakily took it, grabbing the handle with both hands. You’d never used a shovel before, so you attempted to replicate what you’d seen on TV, ramming a foot against the top of the blade and watching it pierce the top layers of dirt. The wooden handle wasn’t clean and as you lifted the blade full of dirt to the side, hard and dried muck scraped your sensitive palms.

William talked to you as you dug, although you did not feel welcome to reply this night. He said you were digging for something he’d buried a while ago and “needed back” now. You couldn’t imagine what someone would burry to then want to retrieve, although a part of your mind wondered to happier things like treasure, only to be pulled back by the stiffness of your arms as you pulled the heavy shovel out of the ground.

Digging got increasingly harder, your body getting more tired with time and even though the rain was only light, it still made the dirt of the handle into mud, making your grip looser and slip.

He soon noticed your constant dropping of the shovel and took it out of your hands.

“Getting a little hard to use this?”

You nodded wildly, “Uh huh, can’t hold it....” You looked at your hands, covered in thin white lines from the scratching.

William looked into the hole you’d made, it was about a foot and a half deep, which was fairly impressive for someone of your size and strength, even if it wasn’t terribly wide.

“Not far to go I see,” The rain seemed to pick up a bit when he said this as he walked around behind you, “Just use your hands until you hit it then, I can get up myself.” You choked back a bit, thinking about scrounging in the dirt for whatever mystery item he was looking for.

You stared at the hole, hesitant to put your hand in.

Abruptly you felt a boot on your back as he shoved your head down, forcing you onto your hands and knees. Swiftly he kicked you in the back of the legs, signalling for you to crawl forward. You did so, reaching the small hole and shoving you hand inside, pulling up a hand full of wet warm dirt. The underside of fingernails went black, the mud caking your arms and knees.

While you had your hand in the pit William gave a quick shove to your back, causing your supporting hand to slip, both hands hit the bottom as your face feel into the thick mud just beyond you dig site. Both hands were in the hole now and you took that as a hint to go faster as you pulled out for muck.

Then you felt it, something hard, and something soft but not dirt like. You clawed at the patch of dirt, slowly relieving what had been hidden.

A small dog’s body lay in the pit, it’s flesh squishy and partially torn where you had scraped it. You threw you body backwards and then pushed yourself away from the hole.

“So, you found it.” William grinned as he moved toward it. He reached down and pulled it out, you saw it more clearly under the flashlight. It was mostly intact, beside odd erosion and your handywork. The neck was twisted at and usual and angel and the most obvious piece of damage showed in the form of the front of its skull missing.

“I hit the dog a few days ago, it belongs too the neighbour a few doors down. It was an accident, but I decided to bury in our backyard anyway, I don’t really want to visit anyone to tell them I killed their dog, you know? But, anyway, I need it now, so I’m glad I didn’t,” He raised it slightly, like he was inspecting it, “It’s in fairly good shape for being buried a couple days, not that it matters much anyway.”

He removed a cheap plastic shopping bag from his pocket and lazily tossed the dogs corpse in. He took your muddy hand and started back to the house, as you listened to the squelch of your feet and the rustling of the plastic bag as it tapped of Williams leg.

The house was so warm compared to outside, but you still trembled as you looked at your dirtied sink in the harsh kitchen lights. You had trekked mud onto the marble. William ran the hot water at the skin and signalled for you to wash up. The water brought no comfort this time as you scrubbed your skin and then let it pool in your hands so you could scrub your legs. Water splashed onto the tiles, you were too tired to notice or to care, although a part of you listened out for an objection that never came.

When you hand cleaned your face and most of what you could get from under your nails, William took your hand and started to lead you back to your sleeping place. Just before you went in, he turned to you and brushed semi damp strand of hair from your face and then kissed your forehead, he gave a quiet thanks and told you that you were good. You went into the room once more and shut the door. Michael stirred in his bed as you made you way to yours, he quietly cried out a few times and as much as you wanted to go over to him you didn’t, you just lay in your bed and fell asleep.

You had wondered what William did with the dog, you'd heard the slap of a freezer door shut, but you shuddered not wanting to think to hard about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next and fairly poor so I'm uploading them at the same time, also note that although I have the chapter outline I haven't started writing the next one and may take a while to come out, thank you for baring with.


	5. Home in a happy bubble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And you finally returned home,  
> like a bubble of safety and happiness
> 
> Potential triggers: None for this chapter

Your mother called early the next morning, saying how she was going to come get you at 1pm and then stayed on the line for an unnecessary amount of time, obviously boring William as he did a good job of pretending he cared.

You sighed and thought to yourself _That there was only 3 more hours left._

You were disappointed to be leaving Michael and Elizabeth, thinking about how you probably wouldn’t see them for a long time. You also thought about how you _hopefully_ wouldn’t be seeing anymore of William. He hadn’t bothered you this morning, other than a light touch on your back when he served you breakfast. He seemed to leave you alone, like he’d had all the fun he could have with you. It felt like he’s taken all that he could from you, leaving a hole where your stomach once was.

You tried to push all your attention on to Michael and Elizabeth, distracting yourself by keeping intent focus on whatever they were doing regardless of how mundane. Once you thought to bring up Michaels nightmare, but you felt like it would be an intrusion and feared he might ask why you were awake. You kept yourself from looking at William, you had no interest in what he was doing or if he was looking at you, but you always could feel his stare burning into the back of your head, wearing down what’s left of you.

_Knock, kno-knock knock knock_

That awful rhythm felt like a god send as you sprung to your feet and started putting things in your back, just like before. Your mother was consistently on time. You couldn’t wait to leave this place of torment and torture. You raced to the door and bounced a bit.

William had to undo the chains as they were too high for you to reach, he seemed to hold onto this last bit of control, sliding them out slowly, seeing you become and inpatient mess. He popped the last lock as you opened the door to see your mother. You jumped beside her as she said her thank you’s and William said something about you always being welcome back. You didn’t intend on returning. You ran to the car and got in. You didn’t watch look back as the house tipped over the horizon.

When you got home you felt like a bubble of safety and happiness had encased you as the moist smell and quiet creaking said you are home. You took a long shower and changed clothes. You happily did everything your mother asked and went to bed as soon as you could, quickly falling into a peaceful, satisfying rest. You had no dreams that night.

Your mother did ask if you wanted to go to the diner again. You said no that you weren’t feeling well and that maybe the next day.

She didn’t ask if you wanted to go again.

Each day you woke up in your bed, you felt at peace. You felt clean.

The days even seemed brighter, not raining for a long time, even when the whether man said it would.

The days slipped by and you fell into the routine of life, like it never happened.

A week after the last time you saw the Afton’s, you were once again sitting on the floor eating your subpar meal, that was the one thing you missed about the Afton’s, how good the food tasted, but it was a fair price for never seeing them again. You watched a game show you hadn’t caught the name of. Everyone left happy, they’d won whatever the grand prize was, and it felt right. It felt like everything was slightly better than before even if nothing changed.

Your mother sitting behind you staring aimlessly at the TV, meal half eaten. Even that felt more comforting. She got up to answer the ringing phone as you kept looking at the TV. Another episode came on and everyone was doing really well on that too, it was only barely halfway through, it felt like they’d win, but then someone slipped up. Everything suddenly went wrong, and they were losing. You frowned, your perfect little happy bubble slightly disrupted, you knew it was just a game show, but it just felt off. You sighed, scrapping the bottom of the metal tray the food came in.

You turned to see if your mother had returned, she was still on the phone. She looked happy, which also felt weird. You huffed at your happiness bubble shrinking, your normal feeling and reality setting in a little more, although mildly amused by this.

Your mother came back in, a little smile on her face. Seems like one of her friends was probably planning something again.

“They called me beautiful.”  
You looked at her funny, making a quiet ‘huh’ noise.

“You know how you always wanted to go on that school trip to the woods?”

You nodded, it had been a few years ago, the school was taking a trip down to the woods and river an hour and a half out of town, which of course you couldn’t go to.

“Is the school planning another one? Am I allowed to go with them?” You asked excitedly.

“No.” She said in an overly happy tone that didn’t fit. One of her friends was likely taking them all into the woods for a weekend or something. You recoiled at the idea of spending a few nights trapped in the middle of nowhere with them.

“It’s better.”

This almost confirmed what you were thinking, so much for the happiness bubble.

“The Afton’s have invited you to go camping with them for a few nights!”

And the bubble burst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is kind of short, so, uh


	6. (Authors note)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just what's going on

Hi, it's your terrible author here. 

I'd just like to give a brief update on where the next chapter is. 

I started it soon after I finished the last one, but I ran into a bout of depression and was unable to work for 3, I have come out of it now and have been met with a lot of unfinished work that has a deadline soon and I need focus on it, but I should be able to finish that all up in the next couple of days. I've also had major keyboard problems and I've been using a touch screen, which is more taxing to use in the long run, but that shouldn't stop me, just slow me down

I'd also like to say thank you for the support, all you comments are appreciated and I always love seeing one's saying that this is a coping piece for them too. It's nice to know the darker recesses of my mind have a use

Hopefully I'll be back updating soon, in the meantime, enjoy this terrible meme I made...

_Y/N does chores at the Afton's household_


	9. Ok, campers: night one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go on a camping trip with the Afton's
> 
> Run like a bitch
> 
> Potential triggers: Creepy adults, partial victim blaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music by REPULSIVE seems to fit my writing, so if you're stuck with something to listen to, you could give them a try

This was probably the longest journey you’d ever been on.

You thought back to when your mother told you about this.

_“The Afton’s have invited you to go camping with them for a few nights!”_

You tried desperately to stop her from making you go, bringing up every point she had made when your school was taking the same trip.

_“But you’re older now, and besides William will be there to keep you safe.”_

You even attempted to break something, but you didn’t throw it hard enough and it just hit the carpet with a soft thud.

You whined and begged. Pleaded. Nothing would change her mind. After a point you seemed to get on her nerves and your begging just concreted the fact you were going.

Your eyes lazily followed a sign you passed by that read “Now leaving Hurricane” followed suit by a smaller sign saying something about driving safely. You had another hour left of the ride.

You’d been picked up late in the afternoon. You’d be gone 2 nights, but would be more than likely arriving home late into the dusk on the final day. A part of you hopes that you’d only have time to set up and then have to go to sleep and you’d only need to bare through one day of the Afton’s, but you’d probably get there disappointingly early.

The radio played softly, a station that seemed to sway in and out of playing music and a talk show. You appreciated the small sense of home and comfort it provided.

The day was gloomy. Heavy clouds hung in the air, they looked as if they were sagging, full and ready to burst at any moment. It brought about an almost premature nightfall. This was likely because of the uncharacteristically good weather the past week and heavy rain was expected for the next few days. Convenient time to plan a camping trip.

The journey was mostly silent aside from the casual discussion of what would happen when you all arrived. From this you found out there was 2 tents, William milled over who would go where out loud, listing possible options. You tensed whenever one of those options involved you and him sharing a tent, he seemed to pause after every mention of it, trying to gage your reaction. In the end he decided that it would be you and Michael in one tent, Elizabeth, Chris and himself in another as although Michael was the eldest, he still wasn’t old enough to take care of both his younger siblings. You were the second oldest so naturally you’d go in with Michael.

You did notice Michael seemed... Off. He always looked a little skinny and a bit tired, but now he looked Ill. Not dramatically, but it was noticeable. Distaste lingering on his mostly blank expression, deep set bags under his eyes. He seemed sluggish. You had no idea why he was so unwell looking, although you suspected he could just be unwell and being dragged on a camping trip in the rain wasn't benefiting him.

In contrast, William seemed lively, well, as lively as this scrawny pale man could. He had an aura of calm that made your insides crawl, it was unnatural and threatening. It was similar, but not the same to as he’d acted before.

The car started down a less travelled path, just off the main road, with a bump followed by continued uneven road, tossing you all about slightly. The radio started to faze out, the sound of whatever music playing quickly being replaced by screeching static and then silence as it was powered off.

You didn’t actually know where you were going, you know the location, “Hurricane River and park”, it was labelled as being a part of Hurricane but was likely not even a part of the area, but you’d never been there, and Michael was the one navigating. An almost comically oversized map in his hands. This place definitely wasn’t in the Hurricane area, a map that large couldn’t be for such a small town.

The rest of the car ride consisted of bumpy then smooth then bumpy roads, Chris complaining about a stomach ache, Michael getting annoyed and shouting at him and then William shouting at them, threatening to “Turn this car around right now if they don’t shut up” and you prayed that they wouldn’t be quiet and would get you all turned around. But the Afton kids knew better than to disobey their father.

Eventually, after a short while of driving through tree tunnels that became forests a large yellow sign came into view:

“HURRICANE RIVER AND PARK”

“Designated park and camp area”

The wording of the sign seemed wrong. You furrowed your brow, sighing. William took a sharp turn into the lot and you choked on your sigh.

You stepped out of the car and were instantly hit with a deep, rich, earthy smell. It was lovely, you hadn’t smelled anything like it before, the only thing close being things your mother occasionally burned. Then you smelled another smell, this one bad, it burned your nose a little bit. You saw where it was coming from, a small log cabin with an open front, a bin was stationed out from of it and it was smoking, the awful smell of whatever was burning in there polluting the area.

William was over at the cabin, enthusiastically talking to a man who clearly did not care. Oddly it reminded you of your mother talking to William, but he didn’t seem put off by the lack of response.

You felt something nudge you. In front of you was a pile of tents and sleeping bags, a skinny set of legs behind them.

“Give us a hand, Y/N?” Michael grunted out, struggling to balance everything.

“Sure thing, Mikey!” You replied as you grabbed as much as you could from his arms, barely able to see beyond the colourful rustling fabric that drowned you vision. Although by themselves they were light, the combination of them and their size made them a difficult hold. You watched William leave the cabin after buying what looked like a few tickets, which you soon learned you bought a ticket per for every night you stayed or something along those lines, granted, you didn’t listen very hard. He grabbed a few tents and slugged them over his shoulders, then telling you to follow him to camp set up. He was wearing a flannel and one of those stupid caps with what looked like a hunting gears logo on the front, not one you recognized. The hat didn’t suit him and you really wanted to tell him that.

You saw other families and some couples setting up, using or packing up tents as you passed the cabin. You saw some kids around your age, and you relaxed a little. Maybe you’d make a friend? Although, your making a friend thing hasn’t gone well so far, unless, is this what’s it’s meant to be like? You shook away your thoughts as you noticed you were getting father away from the people.

You were about to make a sound of protest, before Elizabeth beat you too it, “Daddy, wheeeere are we going? All the people are back other that way!” she dramatically pointed at the other campers. Michael answered for his father, “Actually, dad knows a better place to set up! It’s closer to the river and a nicer part of the forest. It’s super secluded, when I was younger, we went there all the time. Let’s hope no one got there before us.” Michael sped up a little, jumping a few steps ahead, before stopping to catch his breath and grip his stomach, whining a little. William passes him and, reluctantly, so did Elizabeth and Chris. You hung back a second to see if he was ok, you had no free hands, so you nudged him, a little harder than you meant to and he looked at you with distain. He recovered a second after and gave you a “Sorry, I’m ok” look before, cautiously catching up with his father.

Michael was right, this place was secluded, you could no longer hear the other people and the yellow top of someone’s tall tent was barely visible. The river was much wider here and the loud rushing may have accounted for the masking of sound.

William kicked aside some branches and threw down a tent.

He left to gather sticks for a fire, leaving you to put up the tents. It went better that you’d expect, although many bruised fingers from misguided swings of a mallet were very present.

Once you had all set up, it was just past four. The sky looked darker than before, and rain was soon on it’s way. You weren’t sure what camping actually entailed. You knew it was sleeping in tents outside, usually a forest. Beyond that you were lost. You’d seen a few camp movies and a few tales of girl’s scout from a now long gone school friend. Something about fire and eating weird food combination is really all you remembered. William still hadn’t returned, not that you were complaining.

You stood awkwardly, looking around. The area was just green woods, with a busy root covered ground. The tents were set up about 10 feet from a steep riverbank. It went almost straight down in your perspective, like a terrifying slide that would probably tear you to pieces from all the rocks and branches protruding from the sinking soil. It ended in a play bit of ground and then into a flowing river. The water looked grey and brown, from the amount of rocks and dirt, as well as being clouded by it’s own speed. Looked scary.

Then another scary thing came into the clearing. William had returned with a bundle of branches. He was smiling as he dropped them just beyond the tent’s entrances. He stretched, his back clicking. “Ok campers,” his tone was friendly, but manufactured, he spoke like it wasn’t to his children, but like scripted lines of someone who has to deal with someone else’s. Maybe working in a place full of stranger’s kids would do that to how you spoke, “What do you guys want to do?”

“OH, Oh, games!” Elizabeth shouted, bouncing slightly.

“We could swim in the river?” Michael suggested, shrugging vaguely.

“Well,” William looked up at the sky, as of calculating something based on how the clouds looked, “I think it’s a bit late for that, Mike, we can do that tomorrow.” He patted Michael on the head, smiling softly with half lidded eyes.

“Games it is!”

You pulled a face. You didn’t know what games you could play in the woods. Were there camp games? Your thoughts were disrupted by Elizabeth screeching.

“Hide and seek tag! Hide and seek tag!” She bounced more vigorously now, clapping slightly. You weren’t sure how you’d play and seek in the woods, it was pretty dark and dense… damp, but other than ducking behind a tree there weren’t many places to go. You guessed that’s where the ‘tag’ element came in.

William turned around and started counting down. Elizabeth squealed and ran off shouting, “RUN, daddy’s really good at this game!”

“Scary good.” Michael ran in another direction.

You panicked and ran into the darkest part of the forest you could see. You weren’t practiced at this game and you didn’t know if you were good or bad at hiding, so this seemed like your only chance.

Soon you were out of breath, heaving with a dryness in your mouth, a slight headache creeping in. Looking around, there was only forest, the camp was nowhere in sight. It had gotten darker since you’d set up the tents, colder too. You could still hear William loudly counting, but you couldn’t tell from what direction. You’d turned yourself around a bit and weren’t sure which way to go, so you picked a direction you thought was deeper into the woods and started walking again.

Your nerves ramped up as the numbers got lower and lower.

“3…2…1!” The last number rung out with a shout, echoing slightly.

You froze. You heard heavy deliberate footsteps break branches, quickly making their way into the woods. You darted, as quietly as you could, away from the sound. Once they sounded far away enough you decided to hunch down behind a tree, listening. You also took this time to think a little. You were taking this a bit… seriously. You frowned at this thought. It was a kids game. A game that’s meant to be fun, why has this automatically been considered a threat to you? William, you cursed at him in your mind, for ruining your thoughts and planning this stupid thing. But he didn’t plan this game… Elizabeth suggested it, he couldn’t have known this is what she would ask. Maybe you were being irrational. Maybe he just wanted to play with his kids, and you were ruining the fun with your dumb sick head. You felt stupid for blaming everything wrong with you on him. He hurt you but was it that bad… was it even on purpose? Your head was spinning.

Then you heard what sounded like a piglet screeching.

“No fair! You’re too good at this game!” It was Elizabeth huffing. She’d been caught. William laughed. It was closer than you expected.

“Y/N! Mikey! We’re coming for you!” Elizabeth called out. Chris had been caught too, but probably wasn’t as vocal about it as Elizabeth was. You stayed down as their voices got a bit more distant, she was like a little siren which was nice. You got a little more excited, you were having a bit more fun, something about Elizabeth, Michael and Chris being involved made it feel safer.

A few minutes later there was another cry of anguish. “WHAT? How, how did you get me!” Michael had been got. And by Elizabeth apparently. They bickered for a while as you thought about how you were the last one left, you’d never won a game or even come second. Then you heard Michael say, “Where’s dad?”

“He went to catch Y/N, I think.” Elizabeth responded.

You panicked a bit, the pervious fear lurking. You’d assumed he was still with the others that whole time. You’d never heard him walk away. You had no clue where he was now, and their fighting had gone on for quite a while. You tensed and scanned the area with your eyes, retreating a little more into the denser part of tree where you were. First you heard it. The almost silent, but clear sound of boots crunching leaves and sticks. Your heart jumped into your mouth. Then you saw it. The dark outline of a tall man, features shadowed by the twilight that had recently fallen over the forest. You hoped you were as hard to see as he was, maybe he’d pass by and you could try wait it out or hope one of others found you first.

He was getting close but didn’t seem like he saw you. His eyes were clear now and he looked you in the eyes and it was obvious now he did see you and was probably hoping you hadn’t noticed.

You darted, it was the only thing you could do. You moved you legs as fast as they could go, stumbling and tripping over branches as you tried to dodge every on coming tree. William had picked up his pace behind you too. He was faster and his boots made it so he didn’t trip, but you could more easily avoid the trees and slip between smaller gaps of trees. You saw Elizabeth, Michael and Chris as you ran, but they didn’t pursue you and you didn’t stop.

“GET HER DADDY!” Elizabeth screamed.

Michael cheered for you instead “Go, Y/N! RUN LIKE A-“ you didn’t catch the last word.

You got a bit slower, the headache returning as you lost your advantage. The woods thinned out and you were in a partial clearing. You contemplated taking a risk and ducking back into a denser area, but you were cut short. William and grabbed, almost tackled you. He pressed you into his chest as he fell sideways, hitting the ground with his shoulder, making a thud and almost a crack. William recovered before you did. He straddles your crippled frame, as you tried to ring yourself back. You went to lift your head, but a large hand held it down, pushing it into the moist dirt and wood chips. He breathed heavy, you could feel his body expanding and falling on top of you. His hand was sweaty, and his dirty nails dug into you a bit. He leaned over you a little more, he was smiling, a small amount of sweat dropped onto your face. You trembled slightly and he closed his legs slightly more.

“Got cha’.”

He got off you and dusted himself off. Michael, Elizabeth and Chris came into the clearing.

“Woah, what happened?” Michael asked.

“They fell. I caught them.” He said it was a kind of sick pride. Michael rolled his eyes as Elizabeth triumphantly stuck her tongue out at him. You got up, soil sticking to the side of your face and then your hands as you tried to wipe it off. It was even darker now. It wasn’t quite nightfall, but it was getting close, and the clouds aided the ambience. It was time to head back to camp.

Although in the clearing you could see, but in the forest, it was almost pitch black. No one had brought the flashlight, so you all had to hold hands to stop you from getting lost. Elizabeth held William and Chris’ hands and you held Michael and Williams hand. William’s grip was tight, nearly hurt, his hand slipping almost to your wrist. You didn’t even need to grip anymore, you weren’t getting out of his.

Once you’d returned to your tents Michael lit a fire. It was comforting and warm. You ate food which Elizabeth had chosen from the Cabin’s small counter shop. You tried to not to look into the woods, although you loved the fire, it cast shadows onto the trees that unsettled you. The rest of the night was just talking, mostly from Elizabeth and once from Michael telling a ghost story, which was more just plain disturbing. A story about a boy getting kidnapped and forced to eat roadkill. William cut him off before he finished, he looked genuinely angry, but didn’t say much.

After that you all went to bed. You had pyjamas this time which you enjoyed.

You didn’t fall asleep for a long time that night. You didn’t toss or turn, just stare at the roof of the tent as you listened to Michael drift off. He had nightmares again. Whimpering and sobbing, choked cries. He sometimes said people’s names, like he was asking for help. ‘Daddy’ was what he said most, although sometimes he called for his siblings, and once his mother. You hadn’t ever heard him call his dad ‘daddy’, seemed like something he’d outgrown, but maybe he was more childlike when scared.

You rolled closer to him when it got really bad. You didn’t hug or touch him, but just, closer. He did seem to calm down a bit, but there was no way of telling if it was because of you. You eventually you let the nothing take you and drifted into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally uploaded, chapter wasn't great, but I didn't have a plan for this one so it's a bit all over the place, I just didn't want to skip a whole day like that or cut the chapter short. The next one should be better. Thank you for all the support on me not being able to put out chapters as fast! mwah


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